


hostile negotiations

by torpidGilliver



Category: The Murderbot Diaries - Martha Wells
Genre: Alternate POV, Book 4: Exit Strategy, Confinement, Gen, Kidnapping, Missing Scene, POV Third Person, gee guys how come no one has ever written any fic about Serrat?, hopelessness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-10
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-16 21:55:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29956458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/torpidGilliver/pseuds/torpidGilliver
Summary: They haven't told Ayda what they want, but she knows that it's money. It's always money with corporates.-GrayCris Liaison Serrat pays a visit to Ayda Mensah.
Comments: 7
Kudos: 39





	hostile negotiations

**Author's Note:**

> i reread all of exit strategy and home tonight to write this and guys i have _no fucking clue_ how long GrayCris had Mensah. fuck.

The room is not uncomfortable. For a cell, it's downright luxurious.

Ayda has worn ruts in the carpet, passing the time and burning her furious energy out simply by moving whenever and however she can. At first she had refused to sleep on the bed, opting instead to recline in the hard chair when she was too tired to keep her eyes open, but she had eventually admitted to herself that denying herself any comfort was doing her captors' work for them. They already like to come around when she's in the depths of her REM cycle. If she isn't going to get any restful sleep, she should at least not give herself a stiff neck, too.

They call their harassments "visits." The veneer of propriety wouldn't fool a toddler, even though they have never laid a hand on her. They don't need to. They can hold her as long as they like, and Ayda knows that eventually, they'll get what they want. 

They haven't told Ayda what they want, but she knows that it's money. It's always money with corporates. The value of a human life is calculated in credits, and hers is apparently enough of a payout that no one has considered that it might be more cost effective to move her out of this room and into a maintenance closet somewhere. She almost wishes that they would go ahead with the closet already. At least if they stopped pretending to treat her like a guest she could quash the last, desperate part of her that hopes she'll see her family again.

She'd tried to keep track of the days at first, but it was impossible. The windows are privacy screened, tinted so that no light gets in or out, so she can't judge the passage of time by the regular dimming of the station lights to simulate nighttime. The lights in her room are never dimmed, though sometimes they cut out at random intervals, engulfing her in pitch darkness. She genuinely doesn't know whether this is meant to throw her off her rhythm, or if perhaps the structure she's in has some sort of issue maintaining steady power output. If it's the latter, it still manages to accomplish the former. She can't count how many times she's banged her shin on the chair when the outages coincided with her pacing.

Surely the company is coming for her. Surely the Preservation Alliance is in negotiations to get her back. Surely GrayCris are on track to get their ransom money. So then why is it that her frequent visitor looks as stressed as she feels?

Oh, he hides it well, but Ayda can see the cracks. Serrat, sleek and pale and polished in his business attire, is cracking. There are shadows under his cold eyes, and staring at him now, Ayda counts no fewer than six gray strands in his blond that have either defeated his regime, or are new since the last time he treated his hair. He's wearing the same shirt that he had on the last time he came to see her, which could mean that it's a favorite of his and he retrieved it straightaway when it was washed, but more likely means he hasn't bathed or slept since they last time he was here, either. His smile is the same as it's always been, though. Warm, welcoming. He smiles at her as though they're old friends, like he's totally unaware that Ayda can almost feel the way his eyes would pop if she jammed her thumbs into his sockets right now.

She's not a violent person, but exceptions can be made. _Would_ be made, but Serrat isn't stupid. Along with his own chair, he brought a companion. Not that he would consider the SecUnit a companion, Ayda thinks wryly. No doubt Serrat thinks of it as no better than his chair. He feels no gratitude for it, even though its silent presence in the room is the only thing keeping him in one piece. Ayda cuts her eyes toward it again. Its visor is opaqued, so she can't know whether or not it's meeting her eyes. She has no interface, so she can't try to speak to it directly.

 _I can help you,_ she thinks at it desperately. _If you help me, I can help you. We could both leave here together, and you could disappear_.

Stupid, of course. The unit has a functioning governor module. Even if it dislikes Serrat as much as Ayda is projecting onto its utterly impassive body language, it couldn't help her without being punished. Ayda has no idea how to help it. Even if she had a feed connection, software engineering isn't her field of expertise. It's another pointless shred of hope that she hasn't managed to kill.

Serrat's smile widens by a couple of perfect teeth, like he's just remembered something funny and can't quite stop his amusement from showing on his face. "As much as I enjoy the sound of my own voice, Doctor Mensah, we can't call this a conversation if I'm the only contributing party. It's a simple question."

Ayda tears her gaze from the SecUnit. "It's not. Why don't you elaborate?"

"I don't think that I need to." Serrat leans forward, folding his hands on his lap. "All we want to know is what you were looking for at Milu."

"How many times do I have to tell you that I have never been to Milu? That none of my people have _ever_ been to Milu? The Preservation Alliance is not affiliated with any reclamation efforts. You should get in touch with whoever is heading that operation. Sooner, rather than later. I know that it can take a while to sort out these sorts of corporate exchanges."

Ayda can't even remember now what company it was that bought the claim on Milu. She has no idea why Serrat has brought it up, but he floated it two... no, three visits ago. Always the same question. Always a refusal to recognize how nonsensical it is. She does have to admit grudging respect to Serrat, though. He never shows any sort of exasperation with her. It's likely that he was trained his entire life to be a corporate liaison, raised specifically to negotiate with people who want to see him tossed bodily out of a boardroom window.

She looks again at the SecUnit. _I'm not strong enough to drag him across the room and pitch him through the glass, but you are. It would be easy for you to do, and so quick he wouldn't have time to stop smiling._

The unit shifts its weight, and terror shoots through Ayda like a shock of cold water. Serrat chuckles.

"I'm going to ask you one more time, Doctor Mensah."

The SecUnit crosses the room quickly, and Serrat doesn't stop smiling. It doesn't hurt her, doesn't even touch her. It just reaches down to rest a hand on the back of her chair, and leans forward until its masked face is an inch from hers. Ayda's breath fogs the visor. She can only see her own terrified eyes reflected back at her. 

_"Why did you send your SecUnit to Milu?"_

Ayda is so afraid that she'd tell Serrat anything he wants to know right now, but his question actually startles her enough to jar the fear right out of her. Mostly. The SecUnit is still violatingly close, and it's impossible not to be afraid when someone shoves into your personal space and then freezes like a statue directly over you. 

"What are you talking about? I didn't send SecUnit anywhere."

"I know that you think that I'm stupid, Doctor Mensah, but you'll have to shelve your prejudices and try again. My unit isn't quite as... _domesticated_ as yours." The SecUnit flexes its armored hand, and the metal chair complains with a shriek that makes Ayda's teeth grind.

"I'm telling you the truth! I didn't send SecUnit to Milu!"

The SecUnit doesn't move. Ayda stares into the void where its eyes must be, but she can't think of a single prayer to offer it right now. It would never listen to her, even if it had the opportunity. And why should it? She has nothing to offer it. Just like she had nothing to offer Murderbot.

It lingers for what must be multiple minutes, but it never follows through on the implicit threat of its very existence. Finally, at a silent command from Serrat, it withdraws. The part of the chair it had been gripping is warped, molded like clay under the unit's fist. It takes four steps back to stand behind Serrat's chair, and Serrat rises.

"Well, this has been... _disappointing,_ " he says, and sounds genuinely sorry. "I had hoped that you could make things easier for it, but if you'd rather we take it apart ourselves, then I suppose that's what we'll have to do."

This time, the cold water doesn't splash over Ayda all at once. It originates from a leak inside her chest, freezes her heart, then radiates outward. "What are you saying?"

"Oh, was I not clear?" Serrat smiles his beaming, corporate liaison predator smile. "We have your SecUnit. We picked it up last night. It was wandering lost around the station, trying to find you. It's downstairs, in stasis. It's in pretty bad shape, actually. Apparently there was an incident with some of the combat bots stationed at Milu. We've already drafted a bill for the damages." He makes a dismissive hand gesture. "We don't have the specialized equipment to open it and remove its memory banks here, so I thought I'd give you the chance to tell us the truth before we had to send out for it. But if you're going to hold out on me, it's really no bother for me to have a tech work on it. We'll even give it back to you, once we have what we need. Your warranty covers replacement hardware, right?"

He sweeps out of the room without giving Ayda time to formulate a response. The SecUnit stays put for a few seconds, and she's certain that it's looking at her now, but she doesn't entertain the fantasy that it feels anything toward her at all. It turns, folds up Serrat's chair, and follows him out. Ayda doubles over, hugging herself.

It doesn't make any sense. It has to be a trick. Serrat is lying. 

Why, though? Why would he make this up? Ayda never said she intended to investigate Milu, she only addressed it when prompted by a reporter. Did Murderbot hear that press conference? Had it been keeping tabs on her even after it had left her behind, and made the decision that if she wanted someone to investigate Milu, _it_ should be the one to do it?

You stupid SecUnit, you were _free_.

Ayda had been waiting for the last threads of her hope to fray. She was so sure that when they did, it would be easier, somehow. That when there was nothing left, she might find her peace.

The thread snaps. She can feel it, somewhere in the depths of her soul. It's not peaceful. And it's not nothing.

The lights flicker, and plunge Ayda into darkness.


End file.
